


It is what it is

by sandyk



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Gen, gen-ish?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 05:26:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1806940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandyk/pseuds/sandyk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan says, "It's not a romantic comedy, I promise. Just a night of possibly good food and seeing a pretty wonderful couple get married."</p>
            </blockquote>





	It is what it is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [subjunctive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/subjunctive/gifts).



> No profit garnered, not mine. Thanks to sfa for awesome beta! All mistakes mine.

Marcus has never been one to say "This is the job, it is what it is." He hears it a lot around the precinct. Older guys, younger guys, a few of the women. It sounds like a surrender, he thinks. 

Gregson's a good man, he's not jaded. But Gregson thinks stop and frisk is wrong, he doesn't have 7 friends, fellow alums or cousins who have been stopped for no good reason. Gregson feels strongly about police brutality, he doesn't know anyone who's experienced it. So Marcus thinks he works harder not to just shake his head and stop caring. 

Some days, though, test him. It would be a lot easier not to give a crap. 

This day, while he is rubbing his forehead and about to force himself to keep reading the report in front of him, Joan walks in and sits on the edge of his desk. Joan isn't jaded, either. 

Marcus has been up close on enough of Sherlock's cases, he is pretty sure Holmes's pretense of pessimism is not that much pretense but does hide at least a tiny soft spot. 

Joan, though, she is compassionate, sympathetic, even kind. He doesn't know how she does it. She says, "Hey." Still smiling.

"Here about a case?"

"No," she says. Marcus thinks she's sheepish, which is odd. Interesting. 

"So," he says. 

Joan says, "I had plans to dance around and bring some files or something but I couldn't think of any. Here's the thing. My date for this wedding fell through and I just can't go by myself. "

"Why not?"

"One of the groomsmen is an ex, half my family will be there including some cousins I find … irritating, to be honest. I need a plus one to fend off the worst questions. I want to go to the wedding and be able to enjoy it, not spend the weekend irritated and bracing myself to be irritated, you know?" She smiles. "If you can, I promise the food should be expensive."

"I'm not Sherlock, but I notice you didn't say good, just expensive."

She shrugs. "I've been to parties with these caterers before, they're hit and miss."

"This sounds like fun, already," Marcus says, but he's smiling, too. "Am I pretending to be your new boyfriend or fiance or something?"

"No, no," Joan says. "It's not a romantic comedy, I promise. Just a night of possibly good food and seeing a pretty wonderful couple get married. Who you don't know."

He smiles that she counts the loving couple as a plus. "So when is this wedding?"

"Saturday, but it's a drive, upstate New York. I already got a hotel room but it has two double beds," she says, casually. She actually is casual. It's another thing he likes about Joan, she is straightforward without being rude. 

It's a pretty drive up to the wedding. Joan lets him pick the music, he picks silence. It's still comfortable. Joan, unlike her partner, doesn't need to fill every single second with talk and facts and twitches. He appreciates the chance to zone out and be nearly without sound, without irritation and people and bustle and beeps.

"And we're here," Joan says. Another peaceful smile. It's a pretty nice hotel. They've arrived just in time to change and then go to the ceremony. 

He says, "So which usher is the one you dated?"

"He wasn't so bad. Just, honestly, at some point I realized he was one of the most boring people I'd ever spent time with in my life. Outside the bedroom. He was not boring there," she says. She covers her mouth and laughs. "Okay, I have been spending too much time with Sherlock. Sorry about the TMI. And he's the third one."

The third one is a very tall, like NBA tall, white guy. He does actually look pretty boring. 

Whatever Joan feared or anticipated, it turns out everyone is perfectly nice to her. But maybe that's what he was supposed to accomplish by being there. And the hit or miss caterers are mostly hit. The miss is, unfortunately, the desserts. 

"I told you," Joan says. 

"At least it was mostly good," Marcus says. 

They even dance. On the dancefloor, Joan says, "Thank you. You made this weekend a hundred times less stressful."

"Weekend's not over yet," he says. "I still have Sunday to raise your blood pressure. Maybe I'll take over for your family and ask if you'll ever find a good man, one to be a good father." He ends up laughing at the horror on her face at the last sentence.

"That was an uncannily good impression of the cousins in question."

"I know, they asked me instead of you," he says. 

"Oh my god, I am so sorry." 

"Actually, it was kind of fun. They seemed to think I was a catch," Marcus says. He didn't expect that.

"I'm still sorry, and you are a catch," Joan says.

They drift upstairs, still a little drunk and pretty relaxed. He changes into the pajama pants he bought on Friday - he generally just sleeps in his underwear - and Joan changes into sweats and a t-shirt. She sits cross-legged on his bed and flips through the channels. "Sorry," she says, "I'm just not sleepy."

"Me neither," Marcus says. 

They settle easily on Pacific Rim, which is an incredible movie. Marcus isn't sure where in the movie he falls asleep but he wakes up with his head on the end of the bed, staring at Joan's feet. He smiles and goes into the bathroom. By the time he finishes up and comes out, Joan is awake, too, frowning. 

She says, "I feel like I wasted a perfectly good bed, somehow."

He looks down and smirks. 

She says, "I didn't mean it that way."

He nods. He wouldn't mind if she had meant it that way. He would actually be very interested. But that is probably something they should save for another day.

"I told you I would make your Sunday stressful," he says. 

They have a completely unstressful brunch at the hotel restaurant, where they end up sitting with a number of guests from last night. All people Joan knows but they're all friendly. Nobody blanches when he's say he's a cop and no one asks him questions about whether he's ever shot anyone. They tell funny stories about the happy couple that are actually funny. 

On the drive home, Marcus gets to pick the music and this time he goes with NPR. 

He feels 10 lbs lighter, though. Like one weekend with a nice lady is enough to stave off any jadedness creeping for at least a month. Maybe more.


End file.
